


You'd Be Surprised What Can Fit in a Pilot's Purse

by alissabobissa



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Academy pilots!, Cadet hijinks, F/M, Formal wear and mustaches, This is a heist, pre-BSG, you know Kara is going to get Lee in so much trouble if she can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-12 01:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20555936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alissabobissa/pseuds/alissabobissa
Summary: Their plan was fairly simple. Get in, get the thing, and get out. Simple.Except for the getting in part, which all hinged on them not looking like themselves.





	You'd Be Surprised What Can Fit in a Pilot's Purse

**Author's Note:**

> It’s cracky academy hijinks fic, so put it in or out of canon wherever you see fit. Originally written in 2011.
> 
> I do not own a single bit of BSG.

It hadn’t taken him very long to get ready. The tux his mother had bought him for her wedding was still hanging in his closet, not much pressing needed. Hang High’s shoes were a little tight, but he had suffered through worse. The real challenge was his face. Looking at it now in the mirror, tucking hair behind his ears and adjusting his glasses, he just hoped he looked ridiculous enough not to be recognized.  
  
“Are you coming out of there sometime tonight?” Lee yelled over his shoulder at the closed door behind him. Kara had been in there for over an hour, and he was starting to get annoyed. Well, impatient really, with a splash of amusement that he knew he was going to have trouble hiding when she finally emerged. Normally, Starbuck took all of two minutes to throw on her uniform and brush her teeth. Worry might have replaced his irritation if he hadn’t heard sporadic grunts, bangs and muffled “fraks” from behind the door for the entire time she’d been holed up in there.  
  
A high pitched yelp followed by a low, quick “son of a bitch” made their way ever so quietly to Lee’s ears before a louder response actually intended for his hearing came from behind the closed bathroom door. “Keep your shirt on! I’ll be out in a minute.” While her reply was typical, Lee all but ignored it and continued to assess his appearance in the hall mirror.  
  
“This thing started an hour ago. We’re already late,” he called out. “That’s all I’m saying.” A glance at the clock got his foot tapping as a surge of nervous energy spread through his body. They were about to do something really, really stupid, and maybe he was just beginning to realize how wrong it could all go. “How long does it take to put on a dress anyway?” he said, muttering under his breath while stroking the hair above his lip, still not used to the feel of it.  
  
Their plan was fairly simple. One could confuse simple with easy because the plan had exactly three steps, but they knew just how difficult that first step was going be. Get in, get the thing, and get out. Simple. Except for the getting in part, which all hinged on them not looking like themselves.  
  
Lee thought he had done well in that regard. He had stressed the word “older” when going over disguise requirements with Kara, and just the addition of the tux added years he thought. And, of course, there was the mustache. All of his friends had grown facial hair towards the end of school, mustaches being the most popular followed closely by scanty soul patches, all of them convinced they looked at least five years older. Luckily, Lee’s current facial hair adornment was a glue on job, but, then again, it was blond. As was the wig covering his head and tied in a ponytail that reached halfway down his back. With more time he might have tried fake bushy eyebrows as well to give his character a more eccentric look, but the thick frame glasses he borrowed from his roommate were a fast alternative. The prescription made everything slightly blurry, but that was something he’d worry about later. Right now, they were still late.  
  
“Come on, Starbuck! Tick tock,” he said, spinning around with the intention of banging on the bathroom door until she opened up. Honestly, he didn’t know what was taking her so long, but the thought of her going for broke with the whole “older” thing and dressing like a little old lady, stockings around her ankles and all, momentarily made him grin. “Tick,” Lee began again, but stopped when he saw a dark, girl-shaped Starbuck standing in the doorway. He barely had time to remove his glasses and take in her full appearance before she doubled over with body quaking, obscenely loud laughter.  
  
“Oh my Gods, Apollo! What the frak is that thing on your lip?” It took a few moments for Kara to quiet down a bit, having to practically pick herself up off the floor. The serious yet befuddled look on Lee’s face as he stared at her sobered her up pretty quickly though, and she was left feeling like Lee might have seen monkeys fly out of her hair or something. Wearing a tightly fitting sleeveless, strapless, barely-chest-covering black dress that reached the floor, it hugged her curves in all the right ways. White gloves covered her hands and arms up to the elbows, shiny red stilettos peeked out from under her dress, and her red wig was slightly curled on the ends, the long bangs clipped back out of her face. Her lipstick was dark ruby red and she had drawn a fake mole on her cheek. Assuming that was what he was gaping at, she quickly explained, “It’s all about the details, right?”  
  
“Right, ri-right,” he agreed blankly and replaced his glasses on his face. “You look…” He paused while he groped for a word – any word – that she wouldn’t belt him for.  
  
“Stupid. I know. Can we get this over with?”  
  
“I was going to say nice?” He gave a little shrug and could see through the blur that she was smirking a little. Lee straightened his bow tie to keep his hands busy and his eyes firmly planted anywhere but on her. Chuckling deep in her throat, Kara stepped towards him and reached for his face.  
  
“It’s crooked,” and she put a thumb on his lip as she adjusted his fake mustache. His mouth opened a little bit of its own accord, but he stopped his tongue from darting out to taste her finger just in time.  
  
“There.” Quick as a pinch, she had removed her fingers from his face and taken a step back. Lee looked at the floor for a moment, and Kara fiddled with her beaded purse before breaking the silence by clearing her throat.  
  
“Think this’ll work?”  
  
“Not in a million years.”  
  
“Okay then. Let’s do this!” Lee offered his arm, she took it readily and off they went.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Any casual observer out in the Quad that night, possibly one sitting in the shadows on the stone bench under the big old birch tree, might notice a great many interesting things on a seemingly dull evening. They might ponder the uncommonly warm weather for that time of year, or how still everything was, the wind seemingly held at bay somewhere off campus. The muted music and soft lights snaking around the corner from the Henderson Building would be hard to ignore, but it probably just added to the charming ambiance of a relaxing night taking in the air, as they say. The one thing – well, two things – that would catch anyone’s attention was the couple noisily making their way past the fountain on the opposite side of the stone walk.  
  
They might have been attempting to be quiet about it judging from all the glancing around they were doing, but the click of the woman’s shoes on the old stone bounced off the surrounded buildings like gun shots. Bullet Heels and her date were dressed for the annual Chancellor’s Ball, the woman pulling at her dress in various places and clearly more uncomfortable in her swanky wardrobe than the man. She had his arm gripped tightly and their heads were bent together, both of them whispering loudly and trying to gesture with their free hands. It wouldn’t be easy to make out their words across the way as they were, but a hushed argument was pretty obviously taking place.  
  
With the squabble heating up to the breaking point, the finality of the winner’s words might be just loud enough to float over the fountain and to the spot under the tree. “I’ll do it! Gods! Just stand there and try to look pretty!” The loser’s response, if any, was lost as they rounded the corner toward the party, the wind deciding to choose that moment to finally break into the Quad and send the leaves instantly rustling.  
  
Any casual observer would think that the whistling of the leaves only enhanced the faint music still pouring in from around the corner, making the evening anything but dull.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
“I swear to the Gods,” Kara was whispering fiercely into his ear as they approached the columned building, “if you so much as squeak, I will kick your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week.”  
  
“You promise?” He couldn’t help but smirk when she hit the arm that was still linked with hers with her beaded handbag. “Okay, I got it. No talking,” Lee said in his best stage whisper. “My job’s ‘pretty.’ Aye, aye.” The little salute that followed earned him a dramatic eye roll and a twisting pinch on his arm that made him bite his tongue to keep from yelping.  
  
Kara, well aware that the soldier standing in front of the brass-handled doors with a clipboard was trying hard not to look at her, added a little extra sway to her hips as she and Lee walked up the few steps to reach him. Relief made her smile and silently thank the Gods that she didn’t recognize this tall cadet with the guest list. That didn’t necessarily mean he wouldn’t know who she was. Reputation got her a lot in this place, but this was one of those rare times that she wished being a little less unique had been a higher priority in life. Too late now; this was show time.  
  
“Well, hey there,” Kara drawled excitedly at the soldier who would ultimately decide if their plan was going to get off the ground at all. All he had to do was smile at her and she would know they were home free. A little quirk of the lips didn’t seem like too much to ask.  
  
“Names,” the man said flatly. Maybe she’d just have to ask nicely.  
  
“Look at you out here all by your lonesome,” she jutted out her hip and put an indignant hand on it, “just a missin’ all the fun inside.”  
  
Lee chuckled nervously beside her and put his lips to her ear to whisper, “I thought we said no accents.”  
  
“Hahaha,” Kara laughed and pulled Lee close putting a hand on his lapel. “My husband here thinks I let flirtin’ get the best of me, but we’re just makin’ conversation, right? Uh… what’s yer name?”  
  
The guy paused and Kara’s eyes went wide with expectation. “Randy. My name’s Randy, ma’am.”  
  
“Randy. Well, Raaaandy,” she let go of Lee and stepped into Randy’s personal space. “What’d you do to get guest list duty? Forget to tuck in yer shirt at roll call?” She threw her head back in braying laughter and playfully hit Randy’s arm with her purse. As she had hoped, his clipboard went clanking to the ground, and she was able to apologize six different ways as she quickly bent down along with Randy to pick it up. Less than a second was all she had to skim the list – upside down, mind you – before the gallant Randy scooped it up and helped her to her feet.  
  
“Well, thank you kindly. I don’t know what got into me.”  
  
“It’s no problem, ma’am,” and Randy actually smiled at her.  
  
“Shew! Is it already 9:30? Honey, we are sooo late!” she said turning to Lee again. “And I am just sittin’ here takin’ up this poor boy’s time with my squakin’.” Randy opened his mouth to protest, but Kara cut him off and said matter-of-factly, “Dr. and Mrs. Schulakoff.” Randy looked at his list and made a check mark on the page. Giddy with her triumph, Kara continued confidentially. “Igor doesn’t really speak the language all that well, but he sure is a hoot and a half when he gets a few ambrosias in ‘im!”  
  
Kara laughed again and clutched Lee’s arm. Winking at Randy as they went past, Kara pulled Lee into the party saying, “See? Cake.”  
  
/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Anyone in the ballroom that night, despite the sea of formally dressed dignitaries surging around the dance floor in multi-colored waves, probably would have noticed the bright couple, made up of about thirty percent quiet blond man with glasses and seventy percent loud woman with long red hair. The bartender, stationed on the raised platform opposite the band, might have had the best view and probably the most opportunity to simply watch people as they moved about the room. This wasn’t a particularly lively party, full of stuffy, old military types, but the music was good and the trickiest thing anyone had ordered was a Virgon Double Rainbow. You couldn’t begrudge a guy for keeping track of the blond and redhead in the hopes that they might just make the evening a little more entertaining.  
  
The odd pair, who kept to themselves at first by dancing, looked like they socialized with the other guests only when approached. Then it was short work for the redhead to have the whole group laughing, drawing the stares of other nearby party-goers. This tended to make her companion want to dance, because usually after a roar would go up from the group gathered around them, he would pull his date away and steer them into the middle of the soup of dancers.  
  
Twice they visited the little bar station, the woman ordering champagne with a wink and tossing it back like it was water while her companion looked around nervously. The man asked for the time in a comically thick Aerilon accent on their second visit and could be seen pointing at his wrist when he got his date alone to talk with her moments later.  
  
The bartender lost track of them for about twenty minutes after watching the redhead pull the blond by the hand through the crowd. They might have gone outside for air, or gotten into a deep conversation near the bathrooms, or just needed to get away from the crowd for a bit. Maybe they just found a nice, quiet broom closet or one of the empty offices, because when they reappeared the guy was grinning like an idiot and looking both more relaxed and oddly energetic. They half danced, the man twirling the laughing woman every few steps, half walked through the crowd as they made their way to the exit.  
  
Anyone in the ballroom that night probably would have noticed the quiet blond and the funny redhead. A few would go on to repeat some of her jokes to colleagues the next day. Two women who were much too old to be putting up with partners who stepped on their toes would be cursing the young foreign doctor when they got into bed that night. And one bored bartender would think he had been cheated out of witnessing something that might have made this night memorable as he packed up bottles after the music had stopped.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\  
  
“Was that really necessary?” Lee said over his shoulder as he let himself into his dark room at midnight. Kara hit the switch on the wall by the door and closed the door before plopping down in the arm chair.  
  
“I don’t know,” Kara replied sarcastically. “Was it necessary to hand me off to both those old windbags when they asked to cut in?”  
  
“Don’t you think being rude to two rear admirals would have drawn more unwanted attention?” Lee had already removed his wig, glasses, and jacket and was now busy loosening his bow tie.  
  
“_More_ unwanted attention?” Kara’s wig and gloves were on the arm of the chair, and her voice had gone up at the first word. She was already on her feet.  
  
“Yeah. I’m sure being the belle of the ball is hard work and all, but we could have danced once, broken into Colson’s office and gotten out of there without talking to anybody!”  
  
“We did dance, and then that physicist and her husband came over.” Kara took a step towards him and put on a pained expression. “Don’t you think being rude would have drawn _attention_?”  
  
“You didn’t have to tell them all about our hilariously disastrous honeymoon to Gorkahn Colonial Park!” Lee’s face was red as he shouted, “Who rents a goat to go up a mountain anyway!”  
  
“It’s called character improvisation!” she shot back, now properly in his face.  
  
“Dr. Schulakoff never would have rented a goat!” For a second after Lee’s exclamation, they both just stared at each other, the silence and anger seeming to settle on the things that didn’t belong on each of their faces.  
  
“Nice ‘stache.”  
  
“Cool mole. Or is it considered a beauty mark?”  
  
“Shut up,” she said smiling. They both laughed weakly, and Lee ripped off his mustache while Kara licked her finger and rubbed her cheek.  
  
“Okay, this is stupid. We did it! We should be celebrating,” and she walked past him to the cabinet in the little kitchenette to retrieve a half full bottle of brown liquor.  
  
“Now you’re talking.” Lee watched as she rummaged through another cabinet. “They’re in the sink. I still haven’t washed them from last time.”  
  
Kara went to the sink and began washing two small glasses. “You are too frakking lazy to function. How is it that you always turn in homework on time?”  
  
“Priorities,” he quipped.  
  
She brought over two half full glasses and offered one to him. With them raised in the air, Kara said, “To espionage.”  
  
“To breaking and entering.” They both drank. “We may have a future in the biz.”  
  
After an hour the bottle was empty, and Lee’s blond mustache was crookedly back on his face. Kara had yet to take off her black gown, and her bloated handbag sat on the table in front of them. After many drinks and a lengthy discussion on their favorite spy show and which character they would be, they had gotten to the portion of the evening where they sang out toasts before every drink and sloshed more alcohol on the table than what made it to their mouths with every loud clinking of glasses.  
  
“To the C’Bucs!”  
  
“To Caprica!”  
  
“To the Colonial Fleet!”  
  
“To Vipers!”  
  
“To booze!”  
  
“To my purse!” This one sent them both into a fit of giggles that had Lee on the floor. Literally. Once he picked himself up off and made it back into his chair, he raised his glass again. “To Colson.”  
  
“That bastard.” They drank and smiled toothily at each other.  
  
“Can’t wait to see his face tomorrow.”  
  
Kara laughed and sputtered, “Have you seen your face? You still look dumb.”  
  
“Well,” he groped for words, “you still look nice.” He might have started off that sentence intending to work it into a barb, but what came out instead was the truth.  
  
Kara froze for a moment and then stood up shakily. “Shut up.” Lee heard a few hissed “fraks” as she bumped into things while staggering across the room. The door opened after some rustling, and he turned around in his chair in time to watch her retreating back.  
  
“See you in class,” she mumbled before the door shut.  
  
With a sigh he turned back around and put his head on the table to fall asleep or pass out, he didn’t know which. Just before closing his eyes, he saw it.  
  
Kara’s beaded bag was still sitting on the table.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Any one of the five students in Captain Colson’s morning class who missed this particular morning’s session might have made a little more of an effort to make the class had they known what was going to happen. The one with the hangover might have sucked it up, taken a pill, and stumbled into class if he’d known. The two still under the covers might have torn themselves away from each other, while the other two over-sleepers would merely have to be more diligent about setting their alarm clocks in the future. Luckily, the twenty-eight students who did show up had a firsthand account they could and did spread all over campus of a classic Starbuck-Apollo event.  
  
Though they didn’t really have assigned seating, Apollo and Starbuck always sat together. This day they were on the front row. A boy in a wrinkly uniform who thought he was two minutes late, breathlessly threw himself into the seat behind Thrace and overheard Adama telling her she left something at his place last night. The boy’s eyes widened as he pulled a notebook from his bag.  
  
It’s not like it hadn’t been the rumor de jour a few months ago, but most people moved on in a week after no real proof ever turned up. This confirmation of a Starbuck-Apollo romance, while scintillating, would probably still thrill only a very few. Nevertheless, he leaned forward a bit to be better informed. Just in case.  
  
“We are not talking about this right now,” Starbuck whispered.  
  
“It’s in my backpack. I can give it to you after class.”  
  
“Fine. Whatever. Can we drop this?” Apollo shrugged and leaned back a little in his chair. Trouble in paradise might make the upper level of the rumor mill, but anything less than a public display of affection would be useless. Arguments between them had never been news though. Some called it passion, but it was definitely always entertainment.  
  
The door suddenly slammed and Cpt. Colson strode to the podium with purpose as the class rose to their feet. “At ease.” Students began to sit and Colson added, “Except for Thrace.”  
  
Starbuck straightened back up and had to put her hand on Apollo’s shoulder to get him to sit down. “Thrace here thinks it’s funny to take things that don’t belong to her,” Colson said coolly. The boy saw Adama’s back stiffen, but Thrace didn’t appear to have reacted.  
  
“Thrace here thinks this campus is a sandbox she can throw dirt around in without any consequences.” The room was silent, all eyes on Colson as he stepped down from his podium and walked right up to stand in front of Starbuck. “If I could prove it was you,” he began in a low, intense voice, “your ass would be out of here faster than you can drink a shot of ambrosia.” He turned from her and the boy could see Colson smile. “As it is, I can suspend your flight status for a month.”  
  
“Sir? Intermediates are in two weeks.” She said it evenly, but with force. Pride and a little fear welled up in the boy for her. Colson was a hard-ass and move than a little mean, especially to Thrace. Talking back was both brave and tantamount to suicide.  
  
“I’m aware.”  
  
“But sir-”  
  
“If you can’t take your intermediate test, then you’ll have to take it when it’s offered next semester? Oh, I’m aware.” Colson turned to face her again and let his smile expose ever so many teeth. “You’ve been a thorn in my foot and a welt on my back for a year now.” He took a breath and the boy noticed Starbuck’s shoulders rising and falling rapidly. “You deserve this,” he breathed in her face.  
  
“No she doesn’t.” Apollo had gotten to his feet without the boy realizing it. He had something in his hand and he quickly pushed it at Colson’s chest. “Here. The Panthers suck anyway.” The Captain was left open-mouthed and holding a pyramid ball.  
  
No one really remembered too well what followed. Some say there was a shouting match between Colson and Apollo while others say Starbuck took a swing at the Captain. One version has Adama flipping Colson the bird on the way out the door, swearing his father the Commander would hear about this.  
  
All the boy with the wrinkled uniform remembered is that class was dismissed early that day and before he could get back to his room, some first year was telling his buddy all about how Apollo had stolen Cpt. Colson’s prized Panther’s championship pyramid game ball signed by that one hall-of-famer. So badass, they said.  
  
Any one of the students in Colson’s class that day had quite a story to tell, but only one saw Apollo wink at Starbuck as he marched out the room, and how her face lit up when he did. At least that’s how one boy who didn’t have time to iron his uniform and almost missed class would tell it.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\  
  
“You are the stupidest motherfrakker on the planet. You know that, right?”  
  
“I know.” Lee couldn’t help but smile as she paced his room, hands on her hips. “But I saved your ass, didn’t I?” He had yet to tell her that his mother had already called Major Thompson and pledged thousands of cubits of the family money to the completion of the new library. He had yet to tell her that Thompson had only revoked his flight status for a week. He had yet to tell her that ten guys had high fived him on his way back to his room.  
  
“You are never going to let me forget this are you?” she asked after he had explained everything that had happened in Thompson’s office with her.  
  
“Not a chance.” He grinned and braced himself, sure her attack would begin any second now.


End file.
